


Rescue Mission

by hotleafjuice



Series: Sons and Daughters of Skyrim [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Original Character(s), Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4996642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotleafjuice/pseuds/hotleafjuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The loss of just one person was one person too many. One must realize that someone belongs to another in such a way as to complete them somehow.</p><p>Follows the events of "Without Complexities or Pride"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed something way more lighthearted after that last piece. No beta, so mistakes are my own.

_There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature._

_-Jane Austen_

 

 

Vilkas stretched his shield arm, feeling the muscles pull then throb, the pain radiating all the way up to his neck. That last group of marauders was particularly well-armed and organized. Whiterun was in sight, and all he wanted was a hot bath, a warm bed, and a cold mug of ale. Discreetly, he tried to rotate his shoulder, the weight of the shield threatening to drag him down.

“Lemme take that for you.” Farkas reached out only to have his brother practically growl at him.

“Leave it.” Farkas opened his mouth to reply. “No. It's fine.” Farkas clenched his jaw hard enough to grind his teeth. During that battle, for a terrible second, he thought that he had lost Vilkas. The only reason his brother was injured was because he took a blow meant for him.

Vilkas gentled his tone. “We're almost home, Farkas. Nothing a good night's sleep can't cure.”

All Farkas could do was nod, knowing neither one of them was capable of a good night's sleep. They were both stubborn, and despite what the other Companions thought, he knew how to pick his battles with Vilkas.

 

***

 

Vilkas woke to the smell of food, and his stomach reminded him that dinner was traded off for sleep. He lay there for a few moments, listening to the familiar sounds of the mead hall. There was the thump of footsteps above him, along with sound of metal. The living quarters were oddly quiet, and he realized that he didn't know how long he actually slept.

He stumbled out into the main hall, forgoing armor for a tunic and breeches. Rubbing idly at his shoulder, he found the unfamiliar scene of the Harbinger having a meal with Farkas' Wood Elf. Vilkas supposed it was unfair to refer to Milillowyn as such. Despite his initial misgivings, she was a good sort, and just as sweet on his brother as Farkas was on her. For such a tiny thing, she was fierce when she needed to be, especially when it came to enforcing the healing arts.

Vilkas turned sharply on his heel back toward his room. He didn't make the first step before, “Vilkas, you're finally up. Farkas told me about the job, and I brought a few poultices for your arm.”

“No need to worry about me, Milillowyn.” He turned, his gaze moving back and forth between Kodlak and Milillowyn. “It's unnecessary.”

“Farkas didn't think so.” She stood, but even then, the top of her head only came to his shoulder. “He said you took a direct hit from a war-hammer. You're lucky your arm isn't broken.”

“We're made of sturdier stuff, Millie.”

“I don't think she's going to let it go, lad.” Kodlak's voice was a gentle command.

“Aye.”

Milillowyn gathered up the basket sitting near her feet. Before leaving, she nodded politely to Kodlak. Vilkas noticed that she was always very formal with the Harbinger. He thought that is was partly because she didn't want the old man to disapprove of her relationship with his brother. Milillowyn gently touched his elbow, scattering his thoughts.

 

***

 

“Absolutely not.”

“I want to help.” Milillowyn squared her shoulders, refusing to back down.

“Milillowyn, this is dangerous. Leave it to us. We'll bring her back.”

“Vilkas, please. Nimriel is my friend. You said yourself that going up against Necromancers required a different approach.” Milillowyn smoothed over her skirts just to give her hands something to do. Flashes of fire danced behind her eyes, and she could hear the crack of stone giving way from the White-Gold Tower.

“We haven't even officially accepted the job. It's already been four days. She's probably dead.”

“Well, Severio Pelagia doesn't think so. And I agree.”

Aela leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking from Vilkas, to Milillowyn, to Farkas, to Athis, and back again. “Well, we need to decide now.”

“You're no Companion, lass.” Vilkas' words made her bristle.

Beneath the table, Farkas laid a heavy hand atop hers. “I know that. I know that I'm not a seasoned warrior of legend. But I'm no stranger to battle either. If you're going up against Necromancers then you need a mage of your own.” She breathed in deeply. “I don't claim to be a battle-mage, but I'm more than competent. I'll leave the heavy work to you, and I'll be your support.”

Vilkas sighed. “Thoughts?”

“There's no telling how many of those bastards are holed up in those ruins.” Athis weighed his words for a moment. “We might... need a mage at our backs.”

Aela spoke up next. “She's no coward, and she's helped us ina tight spot before.”

“Farkas?” Vilkas turned to his brother hopping that he might nay-say his lover.

“Of course I don't want to put Millie in danger.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I can't make no choices for her either.” He squeezed her hand. “She's stronger than she looks.”

“Well, I guess it's decided then. Aela and Athis, you two get a head start. Just scout the place, let us know what we're up against. The three of us will only be half a day behind you.”

 

***

 

Vilkas checked the straps of his shield one more time. He wasn't nervous about this job, but there were so many ways for it to go very wrong. Out the corner of his eye, he watched Farkas give Milillowyn a pair of daggers. He had never seen the Elf in a fight, but everyone had heard about the battle of the two giants. That aside, he did respect Aela's judgment.

For the moment, the Gods were on their side with fair weather. He and Farkas, like true Nords, shrugged off the bitterly cold wind coming down from the north. Milillowyn was bundled up in such a way that all that could be seen was her face. Vilkas did have to admire the way the fabric was folded and strapped so that it would be difficult for an enemy to grab a handful of cloth. Also, he didn't doubt that there was some sort of enchantment stitched in the seams.

Milillowyn kept mostly kept pace with the brothers, and internally, she cursed their long legs. She was much more surefooted, deftly skipping over rocks and juts of land. The plains rolled on for as far as the eye could see, the tall grasses bending to the wind. She liked the riot of colors, and occasionally, she found herself pausing to collect sheaves of lavender. “Don't fall too far behind,” Vilkas called over his shoulder.

Farkas kept a wandering eye on Milillowyn. Like Vilkas, he would have rather she stayed behind. He had a feeling that she would have followed them anyway. Nimriel was dear to Milillowyn, not just as a friend, but as Elf-kin. It wasn't an unusual sight to see Whiterun's four Wood Elves in company.

Unlike the Nords in heavy armor, Milillowyn's steps barely even disturbed the grass. Of course, there were stories about the Bosmers' strong connection to nature. Farkas had heard her invoke her native God, Y'ffre more than once. Farkas had asked about the famed archers of her homeland, and Milillowyn nearly laughed herself sick when she said that she could hardly finding an arrow sitting on it.

A sudden gust of wind tore across the plains, sending birds squawking and a lone buck fleeing. Farkas tried to be stealthy about holding onto his lady's arm lest she blow away. By the look on her face, Milillowyn knew exactly what he was thinking. Vilkas stopped suddenly, holding up his hand for them to do the same. Slowly, he ushered them under an outcropping of rocks overlooking the river. The ground shook, and Milillowyn watched with wide eyes as a herd of mammoths lazily passed by. Honestly, she was more concerned about the giants that shepherd them.

The trio quickly continued on once they were sure that they hadn't been seen. The rest of the journey was uneventful aside from a fox springing out of the thick growth of bushes and nearly tripping up Farkas.

 

***

 

They met Aela and Athis near the ruins of what had once been a watchtower. Beyond that, there was a field of large broken stones that would provide cover. The crumbling fort sat nearly concealed by an overgrowth of trees. They would have to be wary of an ambush.

“There isn't much guard, just a couple of mages that walk the ramparts before going back inside. We've counted four so far. There are obviously more inside.” Aela pointed to crevice all but invisible in the dark. “We can get in that way. It bypasses the main gate and most of the ledges have crumbled away so no long range.”

Athis' face wrinkled in distaste as he spoke. “We can't discount the dead. They bury skeletons then use raise them up to catch you by surprise.”

“No one's come in or out? They have to get their supplies from somewhere.” Vilkas noted a few worn grooves leading up to the fort.

Aela shook her head. “Nothing. At least not yet. I say we hit them fast, no survivors.”

“Agreed,” Athis chimed in.

“ Milillowyn and Aela cover us. I'll take point.” Vilkas held up his shield and silently drew his sword. He breathed in, trying to pick out individual scents, but there were too many. The scent of the earth and water mingled with the smell of death and magic. He hated Necromancers.

Aela drew her bow, and Milillowyn could see a slight reflective gleam in her gaze. She looked at Farkas and Vilkas closely, and their eyes were the same. Odd. She traded looks with Athis before falling back.

Vilkas slowly led them along the outermost edge of the ruins, using fallen trees and chunks of stone for cover. Farkas drew his greatsword. Milillowyn listened closely, and she noted the absence of birdsong. She couldn't even feel the presence of foxes or rabbits. The ground felt unnatural.

A skeletal hand burst from the earth, sending Milillowyn scrambling backward. Athis beheaded the thing before it could fully free itself. A soft clacking heralded more rising skeletons. A perfectly aimed arrow from Aela sent two of the creatures falling to pieces. “Move. Now.” Vilkas motioned them onward with his shield arm, which he brought up just in time to catch a steel-tipped arrow.

With one swing, Farkas sent three of the skeletons flying apart. Milillowyn dodged one of the creatures, shaking it to pieces with a bit of lightning. Athis made it through the crevice first, followed by Farkas and Aela. Vilkas very nearly threw Milillowyn through the opening as three more skeletons started to crawl up from the ground. A vicious bash from his shield ended that fight before it could really start.

Masser cast the courtyard in a strange light. Milillowyn tipped her head back, noting the small slice of Secunda as well. Surely, the mages knew they were coming now. She could taste the magicka on the air. This place reeked of magical discharge. Aela lead them through the shadows, hugging the fort's wall. There was noise by the front gates, but they continued to wrap around the building as best they could.

There was a small door up a flight of crumbling stairs, and Milillowyn was afraid that it wouldn't hold up for anyone but her. “I don't trust this, Vilkas. Looks like a breeze could collapse the stone.” As if to prove her point, several pieces broke off one of the higher stairs, sending pebbles clattering downward.

“We can't go back. The front will be swarmed by now.”

“Can we just keep going around?” Athis looked over his shoulder, his sword at the ready.

Aela shook her head. “No good. There might not be another way inside.”

“Milillowyn you go. See if you can't find another way.”

The Bosmer shook her head. “I could be leaving you to die.”

Farkas nudged her with his shoulder. “Millie...”

“No--” her words were cut off by a spear of ice. The mages had found them. Two black clad mages flanked by two skeletons came seemingly from nowhere. One mage threw another ice spear, which Vilkas shattered against his shield.

The other mage, in a swirl of purple light, summoned a flame atronach. Aela darted off to the side to flank them. The first blast of flame sent them scattering. Farkas cut down one of the skeletons, sending bones flying. Aela took out the other.

The small band spent several long seconds dodging the atronach. Athis drew its attention. The gout of flame hit him head on. Vilkas drew off the ice mage. Distracted with Vilkas, the mage didn't see Milillowyn's bolt of lightning. The mage convulsed, sparks of electricity dancing across her skin. Before she could overcome her paralysis, Farkas separated her head from her shoulders.

The fire died off, and the conjurer jumped back in alarm as Athis pushed forward, smoke rising from his armor and flickers of flame moving across his skin. With a mighty cry, the Dunmer plunged his sword through the atronach, nearly cutting it in half. An arrow whizzed past Athis, burying itself in the conjurer's throat. The mage dropped to his knees, his eyes rolling back in his head. Farkas shoved him forward with a boot to the back.

“Everyone alright?” Vilkas looked over his little band, noting only minor injuries.

“Thought you would have turned to ash,” Farkas remarked with raised eyebrows.

Athis grinned. “I'm Dunmer. Shrug off fire the way you Nords do the cold.”

Milillowyn looks up toward the worn door. “Now, these stairs...”

“Can't you, ya know, magic some more stairs?” Farkas looked down at her expectantly.

Milillowyn fixed him with a decidedly unimpressed look. “No, my magic does not work that way, heartsong.”

Farkas ducked his head at the term of endearment. Vilkas sighed. “Well, we go up lightest to heaviest.”

Milillowyn frowned we everyone turned to her. “I see.” The Bosmer carefully set her foot on the first step then the second. Her feet slid forward a little to test the stone. Halfway up, one step gave way completely, nearly sending her back to the bottom. She raced up the remaining steps, her feet barely touching down.

Aela went next, picking her way around the cracked stone. Aside from a couple of missteps, Athis made it to the door. Vilkas eyed the stairs then his Shield-Siblings at the top. Forgoing the slow, steady pace of the others, he raced upward, using his shield as a counterbalance when he nearly lost his footing. “Alright, Farkas.”

Milillowyn tensed when Farkas touched the first step. “Just run, Farkas. It's alright.” A green light gathered at her fingertips. Farkas bounded up the stairs as though he weighed nothing. He looked a bit dazed at the top. Milillowyn patted his arm. “A little fortify agility.”

 

***

 

The fort's interior smelled like rot. Weak, sputtering torches lined the walls at varying intervals. Milillowyn took in the molded books, and decaying furniture and wondered why anyone would want to live here. Cobwebs hung in every corner, and she noticed that Farkas stayed as far away from them as possible. They checked every corridor, finding storerooms of stale or inedible food. Some doors were boarded up and others locked. Slowly, they made their way downward.

Voices echoed from a side passage. Vilkas brought them to a halt then motioned Aela forward. With her bow drawn, she crept forward. The others stayed close to the wall and out of the torchlight. Moments later there were two thuds. Aela reappeared with a, “dead end.”

“There's no telling how big this place is,” Athis murmured.

“We came in near the top, so there's only down,” Vilkas replied.

“Or left or right. Could be dozens of hallways.”

Aela carefully peered around a corner then waved them on. “I say we keep going down.”

After descending long, winding flight of stairs, they came into an open space set up as some sort of alchemy lab. Milillowyn peered at the various ingredients laid out and some of the simmering potions. “Don't touch anything.” A side door, concealed by a bookcase, suddenly opened. They fanned out as four mages appeared. There was a moment of shock and silence, then chaos.

Milillowyn tucked herself behind another bookcase. A spear of ice flew by her, hitting one of the alchemy tables. Two of the mages flew back, flinging ice and lightning. Milillowyn watched with wide eyes as one of the potions exploded into flame, and all she could think was, they're going to blow us to Oblivion.

She used ice to keep the fire from spreading. Farkas and Athis used overturned tables to dodge spells. Aela's speed was her asset, and one of the mages found an arrow to the eye. Vilkas fought back an Altmer woman to keep her from summoning anything from the beyond. Glass shattered and the air seemed to still before a shock-wave send them all flying.

 

***

 

Milillowyn awoke to metal bars and the smell of dead bodies. Sitting up made her vision swim and her ears ring. It was several long minutes before the world came back into focus. From the damp of the walls, and the fungus growing in the cracks, Milillowyn figured they were on the lowest level. The room was wide and circular and lined with other cages. She thanked every Divine that her companions were in their own cages and still breathing.

Athis groaned, favoring his left arm. Aela wasn't awake but Milillowyn could see the rise and fall of her chest. Vilkas was upright, but bleeding from a deep cut over his right eye. Farkas' back was to the room, and his shifting about reassured her. There were a few empty cages.

Stretched out across a table was Nimriel. She was naked and shivering but still alive. Milillowyn used the bars to pull herself to her feet. “Nimriel. Nim, please.” She rattle the cage. “Nim, can you hear me?”

Nimriel slowly turned her head toward Milillowyn. “I'm dreaming,” she rasped, eyes filling with tears.

“No, no, no, Nim.” Milillowyn shook the bars in frustration. “We're here. Me and the Companions. Severio sent us. He needs you to come home.”

A few tears leaked from the corners of Nimriel's red-gold eyes. “I...I can't go home. I can't. I--”

“Nim, hush. You're going. We're all going. And when we get back, Severio is going to kiss you stupid and never let you out of his sight again.”

Nimriel choked on a laugh that turned into a sob. The door opened before Milillowyn could get another word in. She recognized the mage as the one that set off the explosion in the alchemy lab. She was a tall, whip-thin Breton with a swaying gait. “Ah, you're awake. Very good.” Her eyes swept over the room before resting on Nimriel.

“Don't!” Milillowyn beat against the bars. “Don't touch her!”

The mage glanced in Milillowyn's direction. “What a noisy little thing you are.” A smile. “And you're in no position to give orders, Elf.”

The Breton turned her attention back to Nimriel. “This isn't personal, you know.” She began laying out fragments of soul gems. “I just need fuel for my experiments. And with enough souls, I can bargain for that power from the Ideal Masters.” She tapped a large crystal that began to hum. Milillowyn could feel the pull of magic.

With the ritual starting, Milillowyn tried with all her might to break her cage. Her magic had little effect, and she had to qualms about beating on the bars until her hands bruised.

The screech of metal echoed painfully off the walls. Milillowyn looked across the room in time to see Farkas morph into a great beast. Aela had already transformed, her claws bending the bars. Milillowyn stared, her shock evident on her face. They were werewolves. Farkas was a beast of Hircine, and she didn't know whether to feel betrayed, afraid, or angry. Aela broke free just as two more mages ran into the room.

In his bestial form, Farkas barely even fit in his cell. His claws shredded metal. One of the mages gathered the power to cast a spell, but Aela was there, her fangs sinking into his flesh. Farkas pounced on the other mage, a young Imperial. Milillowyn watched as a third werewolf, that could only be Vilkas, came up behind the Breton, a growl deep in his throat and saliva dripping from his jaws. The mage didn't even have time to scream before the beast tore into her, blood flying.

The trio of wolves, feasted, and Milillowyn covered her ears to block the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bone. The squelch of meat threatened to turn her stomach inside out. By the look on Athis' face, he obviously didn't know this secret about his Shield-Siblings.

Milillowyn scrambled back as one of the beasts approached her. With one mighty tug, the door came off the hinges. She watched the blood drip from their muzzle, and she swallowed her fear. “Farkas?” The wolf reached out, one finger gently rubbing against her cheek; Milillowyn ignored the smear of blood.

The others freed Athis and Nimriel, the latter nearly comatose with shock. Vilkas reverted back to his human self first. He looked haggard, bent over and breathing heavily. Milillowyn wrapped Nimriel in her cloak, making sure her friend was warm as possible.

Farkas turned next, shaking and on his knees. This change clearly took a lot out of the twins. Neither of them looked particularly well. Aela took to her beast blood with more ease, her transformation natural as breathing. She stretched, pleased and sated.

It was not a lot of effort to clear out the rest of the fort. Vilkas and Aela led, Farkas watching their backs. Athis hung back with the Bosmer to keep them safe. Bright morning light greeted them at the front gates, and they all breathed in deep. Milillowyn took a moment to look over Nimriel. Physically, her injuries were minor, but Milillowyn knew all too well how deep wounds of the psyche could go.

They were all ready to go home.

 

***

 

Milillowyn and Athis delivered Nimriel back to Pelagia Farm. Severio embraced his wife with tears in his eyes. He would never forget this kindness.

Athis returned to Jorrvaskr, but Milillowyn decided to head back to the home she shared with Arcadia. She had a lot to think about, and she felt full to bursting trying to process it all. One thing at a time—a bath first.

It took two days for Farkas to show up at the shop. Milillowyn could not decide if she was upset at him or not. He stood in the doorway of her room, his shoulders hunched in and his expression sheepish. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Aye.” He sighed. “But no one's supposed to know.”

Milillowyn nodded. “I can understand why.” She frowned. “It's the Circle isn't it? You're all werewolves.” Farkas nodded. She reached out and took his hand. “Your restless sleeping...” He nodded once more. “There are things that make sense now.” She pulled him inside and closed the door.

Farkas knelt before her, gathering the Bosmer into his arms. His hands tangled in her hair, and he pressed his face to the side of her neck. “I wasn't sure you were going to talk to me again. Vilkas said I was being stupid.”

Milillowyn brushed his hair back from his face. “For once, I agree with your brother on that point.” She kissed the top of his head. “You won't get rid of me so easily, heartsong.” He kissed her quick and fierce as though he would never get the chance again.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. Milillowyn smiled gently, her fingers twisting to the folds of his tunic. Farkas squeezed her close for a moment before letting her go. He studied her face for a moment, catching his reflection in her wide green eyes. “Will you go back to Jorrvaskr tonight?”

“You want me to stay?” Farkas got to his feet.

“Yes.”


	2. Nobody, Not Even the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from e.e. cummings "somewhere i have never traveled"

_"You want me to stay?"_

_“Yes.”_

 

Milillowyn squealed when Farkas suddenly scooped her up, her arms going around his neck. “Rude.” She pinched him. He grinned down at her, dropping her on the bed with a bounce. She tugged him forward, resting her head against his stomach. Farkas carefully freed her hair from the thick coils pinned at the base of her skull. He loved the rich fire-red of her hair and how the curls seemed to catch on his fingers.

He kissed her forehead then both cheeks. His hands slid from her hair to the sides of her neck. Milillowyn smiled against his mouth as he curled forward. Farkas undressed her slowly, distracted with her dark copper skin dusted with freckles. It wasn't often that he got the chance to touch her body. His lips traveled along her collarbones and up the side of her neck. Milillowyn's fingers twisted in his hair, her breathing heavy under his mouth.

It took a bit of effort to work Farkas out of his armor. Milillowyn swore under her breath when she got her finger caught in one of the straps. Farkas' laughter wasn't helping either. Small, deft hands moved over pale, scarred skin, and she could feel the ripple of muscle beneath the coarse hair spread across his chest. Her hands slid down his stomach, and she could feel the muscles there clench.

Farkas caught her mouth in a fierce kiss, his arms moving around her waist. Milillowyn shuddered, feeling his tongue trace the shell of her ear up to the point. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. Farkas gently nipped the tip of her ear before sucking. Milillowyn griped his arms tightly, her small nails digging into his flesh. Her voice cracked on his name. She laid back, pulling him with her, and he went eagerly. One leg hooked over his hip, her body writhing against his. Farkas bit her shoulder with a low growl.

He grabbed her by her thighs, pushing her upward. He mouthed along the curve of her left breast before continuing his way down her stomach. Milillowyn made soft, pleased sounds, her fingers curling into the blankets. Farkas nosed at the junction of her hip before sucking a bruise there. The Bosmer whined, her heels digging into the back of his shoulders.

The rasp of his stubble made her shudder and squirm. She huffed impatiently as he planted a trail of kisses all the way down to her knees. Farkas laughed then bit the inside of her thigh. “Farkas. Please.” He looked down at Milillowyn, her eyes closed, her lips parted and ruddy, and her body flushed. His tongue traced the folds of her before dipping inside. Her hips pushed against him, desperate for more friction.

Milillowyn nearly groaned in frustration when Farkas returned his attention back to the insides of her thighs, leaving hot, opened-mouthed kisses. One hand reached up, fingering her right nipple until it tightened, and the sensation nearly made her pull away. He slid his tongue inside her until he could circle her clit, gently rubbing it between his lips.

He had to use both hands to keep Milillowyn against the bed. Her back arched inward, trying to push him deeper. Farkas continued the pressure, using his tongue to lave the inside of her thoroughly. He sucked at her clit, occasionally easing the pace with lazy licks. He could tell when Milillowyn was close. Her whole body felt pulled taut and there was moment of utter stillness before she cried out.

Her thighs shook, her body twisting. Farkas held her tightly, his mouth still moving against her. One hand pulled at his hair, the other pulling at the blankets. Her moans were broken off with spates of laughter. When the stimulation became too much, she started to pull away. Farkas kissed her stomach and up to breast before moving on bared throat.

He watched the aftershocks cause her to shudder and jerk, the short bursts of pleasure sometimes making her smile or bite her lip or even giggle. Farkas wrapped his hand around his cock, squeezing to relieve some of the pressure. Milillowyn opened her arms to him. “Come here, you.”

Farkas liked to watch Milillowyn's face when he pushed inside her. Her mouth was slack and her breathing slightly uneven. With her eyes screwed shut, he buried himself entirely, taking a moment to adjust to the tight, wet heat of her. He buried his face in her hair, biting back a groan. After several moments of stillness, “Millie?”

She rolled her hips up against his, feeling the trembling muscle of his thighs. Farkas pulled her closer, just enjoying the moment. Gods, he loved her like this, warm and open. The first thrust made Milillowyn tighten around him, her nails biting into his shoulders. Farkas breathed out heavily.

The pace Farkas set at first was deep and slow, and the long drag of his cock made Milillowyn squirm and buck against him. She tried to urge him faster, her hips pushing against his. He chuckled, the sound smothered against her hair. “You alright, Millie?”

Milillowyn huffed. “You know damned well--” The shock of a quick, hard thrust broke her words into shaky noise. “Fuck!”

Farkas growled, “Working on it.”

“Gods, Farkas.” The rest of her reply was cut off when his thumb rubbed against her clit. Milillowyn felt like she was going to shake apart. Before the pressure could build any further, he stopped. Farkas angled his hips with every few thrusts. Her thighs locked around him when he found that point of pleasure that had her gasping and swearing.

His own orgasm rocked the bed, the wood frame protesting, and Milillowyn continued to move her hips against his. Farkas rubbed the pads of his fingers against her clit, his thrusts just slow, shallow drags. Her climax was less intense but her body still felt like flame. She could feel the sweat cooling in the creases of her body. Farkas was a heavy but welcome weight above her.

Milillowyn rearranged the blankets while Farkas cleaned up a little. And she curled into the Nord once she had him in her nest of pillows and furs. Farkas gently kissed the back of her neck, and his fingers traced idle patterns over her hips. “What's on your mind, song of my heart?”

Farkas tightened his arms around her. “I don't want you to leave.” He sighed into her hair. “I heard you tell Arcadia that you wouldn't want to wear out your welcome.”

Milillowyn laced her fingers with his. “Well, that may have been true. But, you see, I met this Nord.” She smiled. “He is very kind and brave and warm.” She looked at Farkas over her shoulder. “And I love him very much. And I would like very much to keep him.”

For a moment, Farkas felt overcome. He hid his face against her neck. “And he loves you, too.”

 


End file.
